Ghosts
by ChItalianese
Summary: "You must promise me that you won't hurt anyone with him, yes?" Those were the words she heard. Those were the words she promised to. Those were the words that haunted her for years. And now, 15 years later, a barber will be the one to save her from them.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! This is my first Sweeney fic "Ghosts" GASP! Cue dramatic music! :P hahaha well, for this fic, I'm extending the movie timeline a little, so instead of having it take place all in one month- its going to be longer :) And this all starts after Sweeney has been living above Mrs. Lovett for a week (Pirelli hasn't happened yet).**

**ENJOY! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd... *sob*  
**

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Prologue:

The sky above the city thundered, the dark clouds alerting the inhabitants that a storm was at their doorstep. The residents all ran for cover, either popping out their umbrellas, hopping into their carriages, or running for shelter in their fire-warmed, cozy homes. And as these citizens escaped the impending rain, they were unaware of the other unfortunate city dwellers who, not owning even an umbrella, had to hide in alleyways, under anything they could find.

Among these unlucky people, consisting of crazy beggars, scary old drunks, and the disturbed, were two female orphans, ditching their crates to find a better refuge from the storm.

Both were skinny and pale- an indication of their life in the streets. It was obvious that they were no aristocrats. The older girl grabbed her companion's shivering hand, taking off in a run, tattered, dirty, and stained dress flapping. Her dark eyes were narrowed with determination, ignoring the younger girl's complaints about her going too fast.

They rounded a corner and found themselves on Fleet Street- home of old buildings and some sketchy shops with questionable origin. And Mrs. Lovett's pie shop. The one said to be haunted by the ghost of an unfortunate man taken away from his family and shipped away to Australia. The older girl recalled the tale sadly from her toddler days.

"_Val! Slow down!_" the younger child hissed, trying to fix one of her worn out, too-big boots.

"Quiet, Bella. We can go in here!" The older girl said, pulling her in the direction of the pie shop, darting in front of an angry coach that was clearly, like everyone else, in a rush.

"But, isn't that-"

"Hush!" she gripped the doorknob and turned back to the younger child. "We'll take what we can get. Now let's go!" She yanked open the door and dragged the reluctant child behind her, into, what they didn't know, would be a lot more than just a temporary shelter.

Into the life of a vengeful barber and a shop with pies that were so much more than they appeared. Or tasted.

* * *

Mrs. Eleanor "Nellie" Lovett stood at the counter, leaning on her elbow, as she watched the people outside scuttle about, seeking shelter from the storm. She sighed, her eyes moving to follow a bug crawling across the floor with disinterest. No matter how hard she tried, the damn pests wouldn't leave. She had given up. It wasn't like people visited her shop anyway... Well... except for Mr. T. He was there. But even though he was occupying part of her property, she wasn't about to fluster herself over a problem that she had already tried to solve and failed.

"Ugh, maybe if I had some bloody _money_ I'd be able to make this damn building more appealing," she thought aloud bitterly. "Or even an assistant..."

Her head jerked up as the bell attached to the front door clanged violently. She blinked.

Standing in front of her were two girls, neither looking too happy or healthy. One was older than the other by a substantial amount, but they both shared a dark expression that made her immediately jump to the conclusion that they were related. The older girl looked like she was around 16 or 17- but her face showed signs of immense maturity obviously gained through some type of hardship or struggle. It reminded her of Mr. T's... the way her eyes betrayed no emotion and seemed to be clouded by darkness was nearly identical to his.

She wore a plain black dress that had definitely seen better days, considering the edges were torn in many places, and there were stains that looked permanent... and questionable. Her brown hair was extremely straight, but greasy- looking like it had been neglected proper care, but had, at one point in time, been beautiful. Her skin was pale, and her face held a beauty that was hidden behind her hard expression.

Her younger companion was dressed in a similar black dress, except more abused and looking like it was a hand-me-down, as opposed to just seeming worn. Her hair was dark, the true color hiding behind the grit and grease. It was in two long braids reaching her mid-back, tied with what looked like scrap ribbon. She was scowling and her green eyes revealing her frustration with the world.

In short, they both looked positively _dreadful_.

"Oh my..." Mrs. Lovett sighed. "How can I help you, dearies?"

"We were wondering if we may take refuge from the storm here- just until it lightens up, Mrs. Lovett," the older girl spoke calmly and with an almost aristocratic air. Mrs. Lovett was shocked at the refined way the girl spoke- not at all expecting such smooth, perfect English to come from a girl who looked like she slept in the streets.

"Of course, of course." Mrs. Lovett said, motioning towards the booth next to the door. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." The girls nodded their thanks and sat down. The baker narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her visitors once more.

They walked lightly, with an almost dancer-like grace . The way they carried themselves did not match their appearances at all... and the way they whispered amongst themselves... it was as if they didn't want the world to know anything about them.

The sky outside thundered loudly, rain pelting against the dusty windows of Mrs. Lovett's shop. It was like that for hours, yet the girls continued their hushed conversation, unfazed by the horrid weather outside. For the most part, Mrs. Lovett didn't pay much attention to them, but her curiosity arose once more when she saw the older girl pull a small pouch out from her dress and dump the contents on the table.

_Money._

There seemed to be a plentiful supply of it, at least in that pouch, for when the girls began counting, they both brightened up ever so slightly. Their whispering became more excited, and it took all of the baker's willpower to not poke her nose in their business. However, she did notice that it was now slipping into the evening, and the storm hadn't lightened up at all. If anything, it had gotten stronger.

She knew that Mr. T would be coming down soon, looking to see if she had made any dinner for him to take back to his shop and eat in solitude, and, though they didn't bother her, needed to find out what she was going to do with the girls.

She took a deep breath, finding herself slightly intimidated by their presence, and walked over- their conversation cutting off as they saw her approach.

"Er, loves, I don't mean to barge in on your conversation, but-" she squirmed slightly under their gazes. It was incredibly unnerving... "It's getting late and since it's impossible to go anywhere in weather as horrid as this, why don't you just stay the night? I'm sure it'll clear up in the mornin'," she smiled, trying to convey her sincerity. She didn't want them to think that she was merely doing it out of pity... even though she was.

"We can leave," the younger girl said bluntly, giving Mrs. Lovett a hard stare.

"No, no! Stay! No one should be walkin' out in this!" the baker said. She placed her hand on the table and leaned toward the girls. "Come now, why don't you wash up. I'm sure I have some spare clothes for you." She began walking away, waving for them to follow. The girls glanced at each other, but got up and started off behind her, unaware of the man who was observing from the side-door window, scowling.

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**I hope you liked it :) please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**Haalllloooo! CHAPTER 2! CUE TRUMPETS! :D Well, that's all because I'm happy with the response this fic has gotten! Sure, it could be better- but it's still making me happy! :) Thank you to loser-tastic for reviewing! I send you virtual meat pies! mwahahah! :D**

**Dislcaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd... or anything related to it. Except for my girls :)**

**Valentine: That's gross.**

**Isabella: You disgust me.**

**Me: *sob* You're both so cruel... HOW COULD I HAVE CREATED SUCH PEOPLE?**

**-death stares-**

**Uh... okay, so here we go! Enjoy :)  
**

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It had taken some searching, but Mrs. Lovett had found some old clothes for the older girl to wear, considering she was thinner and shorter than herself. As for the younger child, she happened to have a dress that she had been planning to give as a present years ago that would fit her. She left them to wash themselves while she made a meal.

When she walked into the kitchen, she jumped upon seeing a dark figure leaning up against the wall.

"Oh, my!" she gasped, heart beating rapidly. "Mistah T, you gave me a fright!"

"Not my intentions, Mrs. Lovett, I assure you." his face was blank, not showing any hint that he really meant what he said. He furrowed his brow. "Who were those girls?" Mrs. Lovett blinked.

"Oh! They came into the shop right when the storm started- poor things. They looked dreadful, so I offered for them to stay the night until the storm passes. They're washing up, at the moment." she walked past the barber, standing at the counter. She pursed her lips and glanced around, searching for some ingredients to begin cooking.

"Hm." the man grunted and shoved his hands into his pockets. "And how do you expect to feed them, Mrs. Lovett?" he wore a bored expression, but seemed slightly amused by the idea of the woman attempting to care for two children.

"Just because my pies are disgusting, doesn't mean the rest of my cooking is," she heaved a pot out from a cabinet, filled it with water, and placed it on the stove.

"What are their names?"

"What?" she looked back at him, blinking rapidly.

"Their names?" he raised an eyebrow. _Of course. She probably just took in children from the street without even inquiring what their names were..._ he thought, shaking his head.

"Oh... I dunno. Why don't you ask them when they come out? They look like they could use some socializing."

The barber grumbled and examined his razor. He did not care who these children were. As long as they did not bother him or try to pry into his life, he would be tolerant of their presence. He had work that needed to be done and he would not accept being pestered by the youths. The second one of them tried to befriend him- they were out.

It didn't seem to matter to him that he was living on Mrs. Lovett's property. He knew that she was obsessed with him and would do whatever he wanted. Even if it meant sending some poor children back onto the streets. It wasn't like they had experienced any true suffering. Nothing compared to what he had to endure in prison. No, nothing like that at all.

"...reminds me of Victoria."

He looked up, stiffening at the name his landlady spoke.

"What?" he grunted.

"I said, 'the older girl reminds me of Victoria.'" Mrs. Lovett stated, rolling her eyes. "Your goddaughter?" She shook her head, chuckling. It was like Mr. T was living in a different world. You could never tell whether he was listening or not.

Sweeney's eyes widened briefly.

"She lives?" he asked, eyes gaining an interested spark. Possibly the only life seen in his eyes since he was reunited with his "friends" a week earlier.

"Ah, poor dear," Mrs. Lovett sighed, pausing from her cooking to look up at the man, a sad expression written on her face. "Her house was burned down in an accident. She was the only one who survived, but disappeared after the authorities confirmed that she lived. Little dearie, some say that she left to live in Italy with her mother's sister, but no one has been able to find her ever since..." she held her breath as she waited for the barber's reaction.

His jaw was clenched and his grip around his razor tightened in anger.

"An _accident?_" he spoke through gritted teeth. His eyes gained a murderous intent.

"Well, that's what the public was told, at least. Who knows? Jonathan and Gianna were so set on rescuing Johanna from Judge Turpin that they sent him letters every week, saying that they were her godparents and she was rightfully theirs. It's possible the judge couldn't stand them so he burned their house down." Mrs. Lovett dropped her gaze, looking at the floor. "Victoria would walk here by herself every day, waiting for you, Mr. Todd. I remember asking her why she kept coming back, and she told me 'because Uncle Benjamin might come back, and when he does, I want to be there.' Poor little thing... she would sit up in the shop all day." The baker looked out the window, watching the rain attack the city. Her eyes gained a far away look. "She slept over here a great deal. Her parents always just assumed she was here. Then when she was only six, her house was lit ablaze and the little dear ran out, carrying her baby brother, Alexander. He was already dead, though... poor child." a tear fell from her eyes and she quickly brushed it away.

"Turpin..." Sweeney growled, "I will kill that man. I swear it."

"Victoria told me the day before the fire that she needed you to come back. 'I have something of his,' she said. I dunno, Mistah T, but she sounded awfully urgent. Do you remember giving her anything?"

"A razor." he glared at the floor. The memory was fresh in his mind.

_"Uncle Benjamin," the young brunette child smiled at him. "One day, I'm going to be a barber. Just like you!" He laughed and scooped the child up into his arms._

_ "Oh, really, little Miss Tori?" he held up a razor in his hand, flicking it open and letting it catch the light. "Why would you want to do that?"_

_ "Because!" the girl gave him a serious look, brown eyes locked onto his. "I want to be like you!" she beamed. "And I want friends like yours! They're so pretty!" she reached out to touch the blade of the razor. She gasped softly in awe as her fingertips made contact. "I want friends, too..."_

_ The barber smiled. "Here, then, love." He shut the razor, careful not to cut her tiny fingers, and he handed it to her. Her eyes went wide._

_ "No! I can't!" she shook her head, brown curls bouncing vigorously._

_ "Why not?" the barber frowned._

_ "This is _your_ friend! I couldn't take him from you!" she crossed her arms. _

_ Benjamin Barker laughed, "my dear, I do not use this one. He is an extra. Even though he looks like his brothers, he is different inside. His soul calls for something else. He belongs somewhere else. Take him, love."_

_ "Really?" her fingers wrapped around the tool, barely able to go all the way around it. "Thank you, Uncle Benjamin!"_

_ "Benjamin!" Lucy laughed and scolded, "she's only four!" she walked over, baby Johanna in her arms._

_ "Don't worry, Auntie! I'll be careful! I'm going to be a barber! The best barber! Even better than Uncle Benjamin!" Lucy smiled at the happiness on the child's face. _

_ "Well, Miss Rochester," the barber said, "you may keep him for as long as you like, but you must promise me something first."_

_ "Anything!" she was radiating with joy and excitement._

_ "You must promise me that you won't hurt anyone with him, yes?" _

_ "Of course, Uncle Benjamin! I promise!" he patted her on the head and put her down. _

_ "Good girl," he smiled._

_ "I love you, Uncle Benjamin! You too, Auntie Lucy! And baby Johanna! You're the best family!" Victoria gazed up at them with innocent eyes._

_ "Now, now, Tori, you can't forget about your own parents," Lucy said, giving the child a warm, loving smile._

_ "Oh. Them. They're okay. You guys are much better!" she grinned, glowing. Benjamin and Lucy exchanged glances and laughed._

_ "Oh, Victoria, you're silly," Benjamin picked her up again, "but that's why we love you."  
_

"We would like to thank you so much, Mrs. Lovett, for letting us stay with you. We will be out of your hair as soon as the storm ends, I promise,"

The barber's head whipped up. He knew that voice.

"Oh, no problem, really, dearie," Mrs. Lovett said, smiling. "This is Mr. Todd, the barber from upstairs," The older girl, now dressed in the baker's clothes, nodded and looked over at the man.

She froze, eyes widening.

Sweeney went rigid, staring at the girl.

"_You..._"

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**A/N: Review please! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

**Hello, loves! I am actually REALLY happy. Again. Because this fic's got 60 hits! :D Thank you to Eleanor Alice Georgopolous for reviewing!**

**HERE IT IS! CHAPTER THREE!**

**I don't own Sweeney... BUT I DO OWN THE SOUNDTRACK! :O Yay Len Cariou and Angela Lansbury!  
**

* * *

It couldn't be. No. This was not him.

Those eyes... they were similar, but not the same. His eyes had been warm, kind, full of life. These were dark, shadowed, full of suffering. Yet... she knew time changed people. Could it be him? Or was this punishment for her sins years ago? Or was this man really who she thought? Why did the past always bite at her heels, no matter where she went? Benjamin?

No. It was not.

He was gone.

_I knew it. I never should have come back here. We have to leave as soon as possible._

Mr. Sweeney Todd, the new barber of Fleet Street, was staring at her.

Why?

"Have you two met before?" Mrs. Lovett asked, eyes flitting from the barber to the girl.

"No... I don't believe we have." Sweeney said, eyes still locked with the girl, lying to himself. "I am Mr. Sweeney Todd. I run the barber shop up above."

The girl nodded.

"I am Valentine, and this is my sister Isabella," she replied coldly, motioning to the younger girl at her side. The child nodded, but glared at the man with her emerald gaze.

"Pleasure." the barber said stiffly. "I shall be in the shop, Mrs. Lovett." he stormed out of the building and up the stairs.

It wasn't her. It couldn't be. No.

She had been a happy, carefree child, though prone to being serious and unknowingly dark. Even though he could match their faces, could _see _the resemblance- he did not want it to be her. He didn't want to think of his Victoria's eyes being filled with the darkness, the _pain_ that girl's eyes did. No.

It was not her.

She was gone.

But why? _Why_ did she have to look so much like her? Was this his punishment for plotting to kill? Could he not escape his past no matter where he went?

"Valentine... not Victoria..." he mumbled. "It's not her."

* * *

Mrs. Lovett sighed.

"Sorry, loves, he's like that. Got an awful past, he does. Don't mind it." she said, trying to reassure them with a smile.

"It's not a problem, Mrs. Lovett." Valentine responded, "how can we help you?"

"Oh! No, no, no, you don't need to do anything, love," she declined. "It'll only be a few minutes."

"I would like to help, Mrs. Lovett," Isabella stated, walking over to the woman. "I used to work in the kitchen."

"You did?" the woman seemed taken aback. "How old are you?"

"Eleven." the girl glared at a bug that crawled near her foot. She stomped on it violently. Mrs. Lovett blinked.

"Oh, well, I guess if you wish to help you can, but there really isn't much to do..."

"You use a meat substitute?" Isabella looked into the pot containing her pie filling. "Times are hard, I suppose," she picked up a knife and tested its edge. "Dull. Do you have a sharpener?"

"I do..." Mrs. Lovett smiled at the girl's eagerness to help and her knowledge of kitchen utensils.

"Mrs. Lovett..." Valentine spoke, eyes scanning the room, "Do you know if Benjamin Barker has returned yet?"

The baker stiffened.

"Pardon?" she gulped.

"Benjamin Barker. He used to live in the shop where Mr. Todd lives now. Had a wife and daughter." Valentine watched the rain outside. "Was taken away on a false charge fifteen years ago..."

"Oh, uhm, well..." Mrs. Lovett bit her bottom lip. "No, love, he hasn't returned."

"I see..." the girl took a seat at the booth under the window. _She could be lying_, she thought, but sighed. _I don't even know anymore._ "_There was a barber and his wife, and he was beautiful. A proper artist with a knife, but they transported him for life. And he was beautiful..._" she sang softly.

"_He had this wife y'see, pretty little thing, silly little nit, had the chance for the moon on a string, poor thing..._" Mrs. Lovett added, her voice joining in.

"_There were these two you see, wanted her like mad, one of them a judge, other one his beadle..._" Valentine gazed out the window.

"Miss Valentine, you have a wonderful singin' voice," Mrs. Lovett complemented, smiling.

"Thank you."

"_Signora_, where should I put this?" Isabella asked, motioning to a small pile of chopped vegetables.

"Just in the pot, dear." the baker said. She frowned. _Signora?_ "Are you Italian?"

"Yes." the child replied, dumping the ingredients into the pot on the stove.

"What about you, Valentine?"

"Yes." she answered absent-mindedly. She was thinking about other things. About more important things than her ethnicity. Isabella quickly asked her something in Italian, preventing Mrs. Lovett from listening in on their conversation. "No." The child scowled and said something more. "They can take care of themselves. We don't even know them, Bella."

Mrs. Lovett frowned. Who? What in the world were they talking about? She pushed her curiosity away and focused on her cooking. It was none of her business. But... she did wonder what type of lives these girls lived. How could they speak so articulately and move so gracefully if they spent their days on the streets and in back-alleys? Were there more of them? Siblings? Friends?

"So... Uh, do you two have any other family?" the question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"We're not really related." Valentine said. "And no. We don't have any relatives."

"Oh... so you are orphans?"

"You could say that." Valentine looked over at the baker, her face clouded by darkness. Mrs. Lovett gulped. The girl's words were ominous and too dark for her liking... what was she implying?

The baker went back to preparing dinner. Maybe she didn't want to know more about these girls...


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! So sorry I haven't updated sooner- we had a monster of a test this week... On-demand writing sucks. Haha, anyway, I would like to thank everyone who added this to their alerts or favourites! A big thank you to Eleanor Alice Georgopolous for reviewing again! Everyone else, please review! :)**

**I ONLY OWN MY CHARACTERS :)  
**

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A welcoming pot of soup sat on the stove, bubbling joyfully in contrast to the whipping winds and harassing rain outside. The intoxicating scent floated throughout the building, causing the stomachs of its inhabitants to grumble.

"Isabella, dear, would you get Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett asked the child, who looked over with a dead expression.

"I'd rather not." she answered bluntly. Mrs. Lovett blinked.

"I'll go." Valentine said. She was out the door and climbing the stairs in seconds, battling the weather for a brief thirty seconds. She knocked loudly on the door to the barber shop, shivering.

"Come in." a voice called. She entered the shop, the bell on the door jingling as it proclaimed her entrance.

Sweeney was standing at the window, gazing out at the rooftops of London, a dark expression painted on his face. Valentine was tempted to just hastily announce that dinner was ready and get the heck out of there, but fought the urge. She walked up to the barber and stood next to him, watching the hell-hole of a city they lived in be ravaged by a monstrous storm.

"_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and the vermin of the world inhabit it-"_

_ "And it goes by the name of London."_ Valentine finished for him. He glanced over at her, but said nothing. "_At the top of the hole sit a privileged few, making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo-"_

_ "Turning beauty into filth and greed..._" Sweeney shoved his hands into his pockets and narrowed his eyes in thought. "What do you need?" he asked.

"Dinner's ready." she turned around and began walking out, but halted when she came upon the barber chair. She reached out and touched it, feeling the worn leather beneath her fingertips. "Thirteen years..." she murmured. She sensed the barber's presence behind her. "Mr. Todd, did you know the barber who lived here fifteen years ago?" she asked, completely relaxed around the somewhat frightening man.

"I did." he responded shortly.

"Hm." she made her way for the door, leaving the man there alone.

He watched her leave, confused.

Why would she ask him such a question?

"Damn girl..." he grumbled and stormed out of the room, following her.

* * *

The table was set with bowls that looked like they had been deprived usage for quite some time, napkins, and spoons- one for each person. They all sat down, a heavy silence coming over them like a cloud.

"So..." Mrs. Lovett said, attempting to spark some conversation. "If you two are Italian, what brings you to London?" Sweeney resisted the urge to slap her. Obviously, since they spoke English without an accent at all and with sophisticated vocabulary, they lived there.

"Revenge." Valentine answered darkly, looking squarely at the baker without any hint that she was joking. Mrs. Lovett shrunk back slightly, not enjoying the stare she was getting. Sweeney's mouth twisted up slightly into a bemused smile. _Revenge? Ha. How old is she? 16? What could she possible have to avenge?_

"Really?" he said, sipping soup from his spoon. "What for?"

"Murder." Hatred filled her eyes.

"Oh, my... dear that's horrible!" Mrs. Lovett gasped.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. Everyone finished their meals quickly and did not linger in each other's company. Valentine and Isabella sat down at the piano in the living room, while Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett sat at the table, conversing over a bottle of gin. Well, it was mostly just Mrs. Lovett babbling about how the shop needed customers and Sweeney pretending to pay attention, occasionally grunting or nodding. It was amazing how the baker didn't seem to notice that he really didn't care.

Isabella began to play a song, fingers dancing across the keys.

"_I have sailed the world beheld its wonders, from the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru, but there's no place like London,_" the child sang, her voice echoing through the house. "_I feel home again... I can hear the city bells ring, whatever would I do?_"

"_No there's no place like London,_" the two girls chorused.

"_You are young, life has been kind to you._" Valentine's voice was dark, but carried beautifully, ringing with the strength of a trained opera star. "_You will learn..._"

Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett looked over at the girls, both equally surprised at their musical talents. How could street children have such trained voices? There was no way singing of that caliber was simply natural. The vibrato was equal and incredibly stable- not one quiver or any airiness at all.

"_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and the vermin of the world inhabit it and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit and it goes by the name of London,_" Valentine began again.

"_At the top of the hole sit a privileged few, making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo, turning beauty into filth and greed-"_

_ "I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders, for the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru, but there's no place like London!" _

"Italians..." Sweeney muttered, shaking his head and taking a swig of gin. "They always know how to be dramatic..."

"Come now, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett whispered, scolding. "You must admit that you find them charming." she sipped some gin.

"Sure." he finished his drink and stood, turning away from the baker and walking out, singing softly to himself, "_and if you're beautiful and pale with yellow hair..."_

"Bloody 'yellow hair'..." Mrs. Lovett grumbled, watching the girls.

"_These are my friends, see how they glisten... see this one shine, how he smiles in the light, my friend... my faithful friend..." _Valentine gazed out the window forlornly. Her friend... _his_ friend...

What friend?

She had no friends.

* * *

Sweeney stalked up the stairs, muttering incoherently to himself.

She sang.

Of course she did.

She had to.

_ "Nothing's gonna harm you... not while I'm around," Lucy crooned softly to her child, placing her down in the crib. Little Johanna was asleep, relaxing upon hearing her mother's voice._

_ "Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays, I'll send them howling, I don't care I have ways," Benjamin came up beside his wife, wrapping a loving arm around her waist._

_ "No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare," they looked over their shoulders and found Victoria walking over to the crib, smiling happily. Benjamin lifted her up so she could see her god-sister. "Others can desert you, not to worry, whistle I'll be there," the child sang. She leaned her head onto her godfather's sighing innocently. "Baby Johanna..." she whispered, "nothin's gonna harm you. I promise. Not while I'm around."_

The barber threw himself into his chair, burying his head in his hands, trying to console himself.

She sang.

She had to sing. Of all the talents in the world. She just _had _ to be a singer.

"_Nothin's gonna harm you... not while I'm around..._" he looked up at the shattered mirror, at his fragmented reflection.

Yes. It was true. Mirrors did show you who you were. But all he saw was the vengeful, angry shadow of a once happy man. A husband, father, godfather... but no longer. Just like the mirror, he was shattered. And like he had told Mrs. Lovett- Benjamin Barker was dead. But for those few moments, he didn't want him to be.

He wanted to be Benjamin Barker again. He wanted his family back.

"Lucy... Johanna... Victoria... what do I do?"


	5. Chapter 5

**AAAH I AM SO SORRY IT HAS TAKEN ME SO LONG TO UPDATE! I HAVE BEEN SUUUPPPPERRRR BUSY! BUT-**

**HERE IT IS! CHAPTER FIVE! :D**

**I would like to thank xJill Lovett, "Kate", and Landusaumer for reviewing! I really really appreciate the feedback! :D I send virtual meat pies to all of you! ;)**

**I own nothing! :)  
**

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Ch. 5

_"Benjamin!" a tall dark haired man stormed into the barber shop, "you gave my daughter a _razor_?" he did not look at all pleased. _

_ Benjamin Barker blinked in surprise._

_ "Excuse me?" he wiped clean his razor on a cloth. Lucy looked up from her seat on their bed, cradling her baby._

_ "She came home last night carrying a razor!" the man paced in front of the window, looking like a maniac. His appearance was rather unkept- hair wild, shirt untucked, and shoes untied._

_ "Jonathan," the barber took a step toward him, placing a brotherly hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"_

_ The other man sighed, running a hand through his hair._

_ "I don't know what to do, Ben..." he shook his head, "my daughter doesn't even want to be with me anymore! I tried to talk to her last night, and all she did was give me this dead stare- as if she hated me!" Lucy and Benjamin exchanged wide eyed glances. It was only the day before when Victoria had told them she liked them better than her own parents. They had thought she was only being a silly child._

_ "Jon, I'm sure she still loves you," Lucy said, standing up. "She's only a child. They all have little mood swings like that." she smiled at the man, who sighed once more._

_ "I hope so..." he mumbled. "That's what I thought at first, but... it was so... _cold_." he shuddered at the memory. "I never thought a child could look like that..."_

_ "Jon, my friend, I'm sure everything's fine." Benjamin laughed good-naturedly. "Lucy, Johanna, and I are going to the market park today, would you and your family like to come?"_

_ "I would love to, but I'm sure you would like some time together, no?" Jonathan said, patting the younger man on the arm. "Perhaps I will go try to talk to Victoria..." the man left the room, completely blind to the small child sitting in Mrs. Lovett's shop down below. _

_ She said her thanks to the baker and quickly ran up the stairs to the barber shop, flinging open the door._

_ "Victoria?" Benjamin laughed, surprised to see the child there only a minute after her father. The girl smiled. "Your daddy was just here a minute ago," _

_ "I know." she answered flatly, "he didn't notice me." a darkness overcame her face for a split second, but quickly disappeared. "Can I come with you?" she asked, giving her godparent innocent eyes._

_ "Tori," Lucy walked over, "your daddy is worried about you, dear. I think he wants to spend some time with you." The little girl frowned._

_ "No he doesn't. He doesn't like me." she said this all relatively calmly, not bursting into tears like most children her age would. Her expression was completely serious- not showing one hint of humor or happiness. _

_ "Pet, why do you say that?" Benjamin kneeled down in front of her and tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear._

_ "He tried to take away my friend." she stated. "But I got him back. See?" she held out her right hand and showed the barber the silver object. "I almost threw him at that man with the big nose under the window, but I remembered you told me that I couldn't do something like that." she grinned proudly. "By the way, that man is usually here when I come... what's his name? Turnip?"_

_ "Judge Turpin, dearie?" Lucy asked, mouth tightening. "What was he doing there?" she directed the question at her husband._

_ "He was watching you, Auntie... I can deal with him, if you want!" Victoria flicked out her razor, brandishing it like a sword. "Take _that_, knave!" she cried, pretending to be a knight of lore._

_ "Miss Rochester, what did I tell you?" her godfather scolded._

_ "Don't worry, Uncle, I'm only playing," she smiled. "But he _was_ very creepy... I would beat him up if I were you, Uncle Benjamin. He was watching Auntie..."_

_ "Silly, girl. I'm sure he was merely glancing up here to check how we were doing," though the barber said this with a smile, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice._

_ "Every day?"_

_ The man began to worry about her persistence. Maybe this judge really _was _lusting after his wife..._

_ "Tori, you do have an imagination," Lucy chuckled. "Come, let's go to the market, shall we?"_

_ "Whatever you say, Auntie," the little girl still wore a troubled expression and looked like she was trying to figure out what was going on with the judge._

_ Benjamin lifted her onto his shoulders and they left for the market._

_ It was the last time he would for another fifteen years._

* * *

Valentine sat at the window in the pie shop, the only one awake downstairs. She was watching the rain with mild interest and was deep in thought.

This "Mr. Todd"... he was a lot like her. They both seemed somewhat dark upon first glance and didn't feel the need to please others, unless absolutely necessary. Judging by the noise of soft footsteps above, she came to the conclusion that he wasn't asleep either.

But she was suspicious, as well. There was something strange about how after fifteen years, one man is brave enough to inhabit the "haunted" room and that he just so happens to also be a barber... A barber who seems perfectly comfortable with the idea that a woman died in that very room. Weird? Yes. Scary? Somewhat.

Could he really be Benjamin Barker? Could he have escaped prison? Could he be back for revenge?

Revenge.

A concept she knew all too well.

Images flashed through her mind- the sneering face of a corrupt official, a burning house, a dead infant, the flash of chase silver dripping rubies...

Yes, revenge.

She was there for revenge. To destroy what had destroyed her fifteen years prior.

* * *

_ The sun was shining down on the small family in the market- laughing and playing. The only brunette child smiled at the infant in the carriage in front of her._

_ "Uncle Benjamin! She's laughing!" the little girl giggled._

_ "Of course she is, pet, she has a lovely god-sister!" the barber ruffled her hair and laughed. _

_ The little girl smiled and walked over to a small bush to pick a flower that had caught her eye. She knelt down and retrieved the blossom, but when she stood up, her eyes caught a man standing a few yards away from her god-family, whispering to some police. It was the big-nosed man._

_ "Judge Turpin..." she whispered, eyes widening. She watched the police come towards them and dropped the flower. The judge smiled at her for a brief moment. She glared at him and ran toward her godfather, seeing through the judge's false friendliness. "UNCLE BENJAMIN!" she screamed, tripping over a loose stone and crashing to the ground. "LOOK OUT!" tears streamed down her face, "THE JUDGE!" the man looked over at his goddaughter and was about to rush over to help her up, when he was clubbed over the head and dragged away by the two constables. "Uncle..." the little girl sobbed. Lucy watched in horror and shock as they pulled her unconscious husband across the streets. Tears quickly fell from her eyes._

_ The little girl on the ground stood up and tried to run after her godfather, but was stopped by the towering figure of a man. She gazed up._

_ The judge._

_ "My dear, your godfather has committed a horrible crime. Do not run after such a criminal." he said. The girl stopped crying and looked up at the man, giving him a fierce look full of hatred, darkness, and murderous intent. The judge was slightly taken aback by the ferocity in the eyes of the young child._

_ "Lies." the child stated. "You tell lies." he backed away, eyes wide in fear. She took a step toward him. "_Liar._" she spat. She flicked out her razor and was tempted to drive it right into the stomach of the corrupt government official, but recalled the words she had promised to the day before. Instead, she glared at him and pointed the blade at him threateningly. "I hope, your honor, you burn in Hell." with that, she walked away._

_The judge._

_ He would die._

_ Yes._

_ He would die.

* * *

_

He would die.

By her hand.

For Benjamin.

For _her_ Uncle Benjamin.

* * *

** :D please review :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi, there! Sorry for updating so late... I've been having some writers block. haha A question for all you guys: should I introduce more characters? Or are my two OCs enough? Because I was thinking about adding two more... but now I'm kinda against it. SO, let me know what you think!**

**BIG thank yous to xJill Lovett and PurpleandBlackPandas for reviewing! A virtual meat pie for each of you! :)**

**I don't own anything except my girls!**

**Isabella: That's gross.**

**Valentine: Agreed.**

**Me: *sob*  
**

* * *

Ch. 6

Mrs. Lovett walked out into the shop at an early six in the morning, surprised to find Valentine at the table, looking out the window at the rain. Had she been there all night? She was wearing the same clothes as the night before and looked like she had been in deep thought for a long time.

"Valentine?" she called softly. "Love, have you been here all night?" The girl turned around, eyes dark and empty.

"Yes. I couldn't sleep." Okay, so she lied a little- but what did that matter?

"Oh, poor thing. I coulda given you some gin if you wanted to," Mrs. Lovett smiled, trying to brighten up the girl's mood.

"It's okay, Mrs. Lovett. I don't sleep much anyway."

The baker could see that. Around the girl's eyes were dark circles that made it look like she never slept. It was sad. How could someone so young seem to be so troubled and depressed?

"Val, dear- I can call you that, right?- well, even though I don't really know you that well, don't hesitate to tell me if something's wrong." the woman placed a hand on Valentine's shoulder, smiling.

_Wrong._ The girl thought bitterly, _you've known me for nearly eighteen years._ She nodded and turned back to watching the rain.

There was water running down the sides of the street and few people were out at all. The grayness of London was even more present in the gloomy weather. The sight of the poor street children huddling in alleys and under crates stabbed Valentine like a knife.

She belonged out there. Not sheltered and protected in a pie shop. Especially not _this_ pie shop. There was too much here that reminded her of her faults. Of how she broke her promise and had let the most important people in her life disappear.

"Valentine." Isabella stood behind her, dressed in her clothes from the day before.

"_Si?_" the older girl faced her "sister".

"Are you thinking about _him_?" the child asked in Italian, frowning.

"Yes... I can't not think about it." Valentine replied, using the child's native tongue.

"Do you think it was a mistake coming here?"

"Possibly," the teen sighed and stood up, "but there is something about Mr. Todd that I need to find out."

"Does he remind you of your godfather?" Isabella's usually hard expression softened. She didn't like seeing her role model behaving so melancholy. Well... more than usual at least.

"In a way... but Bella," Valentine looked right into the child's eyes, "I don't want you to worry about it, okay?"

"_Si_." Isabella nodded.

"_Ragazza buona._"

Just then, the door opened and the said barber stormed in, his dramatic entrance cueing all eyes to fly to him.

"Mornin', Mistah T," Mrs. Lovett said, leaning casually against the counter. "You sleep well, love?"

"No." the man grunted. He was not lying. He didn't sleep at all.

"Really? Well, neither did Valentine here, says she couldn't sleep."

The barber looked over at the girl, as if just noticing her presence. He scowled and looked away.

"Wonderful." he deadpanned. Clearly, he wasn't a morning person.

Mrs. Lovett shot him a glare before looking back at their guests, smiling.

"Well, the storm hasn't lightened up one bit, so I guess you dolls are stuck with us!" she joked.

"_Idiota..._" Isabella muttered. She began going through the cupboards. "You don't have anything." she stated, looking over at the baker with her scowling glare.

"Heh, well, I'm not used to having so many people around-"

"No matter." the girl cut her off. "I'll go to the market."

"No you won't," Valentine said in Italian, folding her arms.

"But-"

"Listen to your sister." Their heads whipped around. It was Sweeney. He was speaking in Italian.

"_Signor_-" Valentine opened her mouth, momentarily shocked.

"Don't ask." he said, reverting back to English.

"Mister T! You speak Italian?" Mrs. Lovett's eyes were wide. She laughed, "that's wonderful!"

"Mhm." the man shoved his hands into his pockets.

_He acts like a child..._ Isabella thought, going back to digging through drawers and cupboards. _Damn, there is barely anything in here..._

"How are we supposed to eat if there's no food?" she asked, tone so flat it was like she wasn't even asking a question.

There was a silence.

Though none of them, including the sullen barber, thought sending the child out into the storm was a good idea, they all saw the truth in the girl's words.

"I'll go with you." her sister said.

"No, no, you can stay, love, I'll go with her." Mrs. Lovett said, smiling at the little girl in a some what patronizing way. She returned the action with an empty stare. The baker's smile dropped. "I-I'm sure you would like some time to rest, since you didn't get any sleep all night," she chuckled nervously.

"Are you sure?" Valentine didn't sound pleased, but she knew it would be rude to immediately decline someone who would be doing them a favor... well, not that that had stopped her before, but she trusted Mrs. Lovett and wanted to see if she could learn more about this Mr. Todd.

"Of course, love!" the baker smiled again. She turned to the younger child. "Come, dearie, it's best we get going now!" Isabella glared daggers at Valentine, who ignored her.

She watched as the child pulled on a large coat and left the building, leaving her with the barber.

They avoided looking at each other for a minute- an awkward silence that didn't seem to bother either of them growing.

Valentine walked outside, ignoring the pelting rain. Her gaze followed the disappearing figures of Mrs. Lovett and Isabella, a sort of pride swelling up in her. Isabella had been scarred years ago by the people she called a family... psychologically _and_ physically.

Valentine remembered how the child had told her she would never speak to another man ever again... or anyone who happened to remind her of the horrific first years of her life. Thus, she grew up isolated in her own world, where only pain, sorrow, and emptiness existed. Until a certain servant showed up at her doorstep...

_"Child! Come here." the giant man ordered harshly, glaring at the small child curled up in the massive armchair in the corner of the lavish living room. She glanced up timidly and shut the book she was reading, running over with a slight limp. "This is your new chambermaid- Vittoria." he motioned to the girl dressed in a plain servant's dress behind him. _

_ Vittoria was intrigued- the child looked nothing like the other members of the family... was she adopted?_

_ "Introduce yourself!" the man shouted, raising his hand to slap the young child. She flinched and backed away._

_ "I-isabella..." she stammered. "Buon Giorno, Signorina..."_

A poor child... adopted into a rich Italian family. The first mother adored her- then she died. The child was only three when the new mother came in and changed everything- allowing the toddler to be abused and treated like a piece of trash.

_ "Half British trash!" the man yelled, hurling a large glass vase at the small child. She yelped quietly and jumped out of the way. "If it weren't Maria's dying wish for us to keep you, you would be on the streets by now!" _

_ Vittoria glared at the man and his wife, who stood only a few yards away, watching him attack the girl. The servant could feel the object in her right boot calling to her- whispering her name. She could almost feel the cool silver metal in her hand- see the flash of crimson as it sliced through the skin of the heartless beings before her... but she couldn't._

_ "I'm almost fourteen... ten years? Well... I already broke that promise... God forgive me should I give in to the urge again." she thought, continuing to dust the table in front of her._

_ "Trash! Don't walk away from me!" the man roared, charging toward the little girl. Her eyes widened in surprise and she was unable to move as his hand struck the soft skin of her cheek. She staggered backward, tears coming to her eyes. Her hand flew to her cheek, where an angry red mark was quickly forming. _

_ "I-i'm sorry, Signor..." she choked out. He roared profanities at her before smacking her over the head and walking away._

_ The two adults left the room, off to some party of another rich friend's._

_ Vittoria watched them leave, then ran up to the child, who was whimpering on the ground, curled up in a fetal position. _

_ "I'll help you, love," she said in English. Isabella stopped crying._

_ "You speak English?" she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes as she spoke the language. "I'm not the only one?" she whispered._

_ "I was born in London, pet." she helped the child stand up. "Mr. Rossi told me you were too. To a British mother and Italian father." Vittoria gently touched the little girl's cheek. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here. And we'll go back to London. Okay?" the child nodded, smiling. "Come, we'll plan up in your bedroom," the two girls walked, hand in hand up the grand stairs to the child's small room. _

"In case you haven't noticed- it's raining."

Valentine looked over her shoulder and found Sweeney standing in the doorway of the pie shop, arms folded.

"I am not blind." she took a quick glance in the direction Mrs. Lovett and Isabella had gone in. She sighed. The barber walked up behind her.

"You care about her," he noted.

"When you've seen horrors inflicted on a child you never take your eyes off them." she responded.

She found it odd that she was standing outside, in the rain, with the barber, talking about Isabella. He had barely spoken to her at all, but now seemed to want to somewhat make conversation.

"You're going to catch cold in this," Sweeney said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn't understand why the girl was being so protective over the child. What "horrors" could have happened to a child no older than 12?

Wordlessly, Valentine walked back into the shop.

_Damn girl..._ the barber thought crossly, shaking his head and following her.


End file.
